


Poetic Leanings

by fawatson



Category: RENAULT Mary - Works
Genre: Gen, ITOWverse, Metafiction, Ptolemy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simonides is intrigued by the latest challenge on the <a href="http://maryrenaultfics.livejournal.com">maryrenaultfics</a> LiveJournal community.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poetic Leanings

**Author's Note:**

> “Poetic Leanings” was written for the Brigit’s Flame March 2010 Challenge (Week One), and originally posted by fawatson on 7 March 2010.

Simonides poked his head round the archway leading to the ballroom.  Everything seemed to be going well here.  He had lent his apprentice and drum to help with these celebrations, not that they really needed anything.  At the head of the room presided Alexander, resplendent in purple.  They had just finished a round.  Raucous laughter, cheers, and the noise of stamping feet rocked the hall as the Macedonian Bodyguard showed their appreciation.  Without pause, Ptolemy started the next round of singing.

_“The Ladies of Pella all chatter  
‘King Philip behaves like a satyr!’”_

The song was taken up with vigour by Perdikkas leading the other side of the room, one line later.  Simonides noted Bagoas was nowhere in evidence.  Clearly the outrageous lyrics had proven too much for his Persian modesty.

Simonides plucked a cup of mead from the serving girl’s tray as she entered the ballroom.  He turned in the opposite direction, seeking the calmer atmosphere of the reading room.  He had set up his laptop on one side of the large, carved-oak table centrally located in the room.  Across from it sat three women, heads bent, working hard. 

Only three, he thought, saddened, as he paused in the doorway.  Almost three hundred community members, yet only these three had taken up the haiku challenge.  He knew they couldn’t see him.  They weren’t really here at all.  In actuality, they sat back in their own homes, heads bent, writing diligently, crossing out, writing more.  Only in their hearts were they here, sitting before him, acolytes to his art.  Slowly he crossed the room to stand behind, looking over one woman’s shoulders approvingly.

_“A look, a vow, just for him”_

Such a lovely line, he thought.  An indistinct outline shimmered next to the three women.  Clearly someone else was considering it.  Even as he moved toward her, however, the glow of the fourth figure dimmed.  He brushed his hands across her brow, testing thoughts.  “Luminary”—such an odd word, he thought.  No wonder.... 

As another woman paused in her work, inspiration faltering, Simonides abandoned the ghostly figure and shifted to rest his hands on more receptive hair, willing the budding poetess on.

_“The weight of the god descends”_

She wrote swiftly in response to his ... encouragement. 

**Author's Note:**

> For World Poetry Day in 2010, the moderators of Maryrenaultfics set a [haiku challenge](http://maryrenaultfics.livejournal.com/340471.html)—or, more accurately, a so-called "half-haiku" challenge, in which they provided the first and last lines of the poem and challenged members to fill in the missing second line.


End file.
